Текст книги "A shadow in the ember"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

Chapter 18

“I haven’t forgotten what you did when we were children,” Ezra said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “When that ugly cat of yours—”

“His name was Butters,” I cut in. “And he wasn’t ugly.”

Her brows lifted. “He looked like he crawled out of the depths of the Shadowlands.”

“There is no need to disparage Butters’ memory like that. He was just…” The tabby cat formed in my mind, complete with a half missing ear and patchy fur. “He was just different.”

“Different or not, you brought Butters back to life when he got into that poison. You touched him, and that cat sprang to life.”

“Only to die less than an hour later.”

“But that wasn’t because of you,” Ezra reminded me. “His second death had nothing to do with that.”

But hadn’t it?

I tried not to think of that night, of what’d happened when Tavius had gone to my mother to tell her what he’d seen me do. The Queen had promptly lost her ever-loving mind. Granted, I was sure discovering that your child had brought life back to a dead barn cat would be quite unsettling, but enough that she had ordered the cat to be captured and…?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I reopened them as Ezra said, “You can help her.”

I slowly shook my head. Marisol had always been kind to me. She was a good person. “Butters was a cat—”

“Have you done it since?” Ezra challenged. “Have you given life back to some poor creature since then? I’m sure you have, so don’t lie. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals. There’s no way you haven’t.”

I thought of the kiyou wolf.

“Have you tried it on a person?” Ezra asked.

Immediately, Odetta replaced the wolf. That was what I’d been about to do when she opened her eyes, but I’d been panicked then. I hadn’t been thinking. I was thinking now.

“Ezra…” I loathed the mere idea of refusing her. She was family. The real kind that went beyond shared parents and even blood. On more than one occasion, she’d been there to shield me from Tavius’s barbed remarks when I’d been the Maiden and couldn’t talk back. It was always Ezra who stayed close to my side during the rare moments when we all gathered—like last night—so I didn’t look as awkward as I felt. She saw me as someone and not a thing. But bringing back a dead person?

“I haven’t tried it with a mortal,” I said.

“But you can at least try now, Sera. Please? There is no harm in trying,” she said. “If it doesn’t work, then I know…I’ll at least know we tried everything. And if it does? You will have used this gift you have to help someone deserving.” She carefully dabbed at the blood on Marisol’s neck. “And if it works, I’ll make sure she doesn’t realize how injured she was. No one but you and I have to know the truth.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest as I stared at Marisol. The chalky gray pallor of death hadn’t yet set in. The animals I’d brought back had all been normal afterward, living until fate or old age took them once more. But people had to be different.

“Please,” Ezra begged, and my heart squeezed. “Please help Mari. I can’t… You don’t understand.” Her voice cracked as she focused on Mari. “I just can’t lose her.”

The breath I drew hitched in my throat as I glanced between them. Things began to fall into place. The two had been close, from childhood and into adulthood. Marisol remained unmarried, and Ezra had shown no interest beyond courtesy in any of the numerous suitors who’d called upon her. I thought I might’ve just figured out why.

“Do you love her, Ezra?” I whispered.

My stepsister’s gaze lifted to mine, but there was no hesitation. “Yes. I love her very much.”

Love.

I wondered what it felt like to care for someone so deeply and completely that you would be willing to do anything for them. I’d barely felt anything beyond passing curiosity and lust, and the gods knew I’d tried to feel more—to want more and seize it. But nothing like that had ever sparked for those I met in the Garden District.

I had no idea how it felt to have that kind of love inside you. Was it as exhilarating as I believed it to be, or was it terrifying? Both? I knew it had to be miraculous. And I knew I couldn’t let Ezra lose that.

Cursing under my breath, I leaned forward. “I have no idea if this will work.”

“I know.” Her eyes met mine. “I wouldn’t ask this of you, but—”

“You love her, and you would do anything for her.” I knelt before Marisol’s legs, unable to believe that I was actually doing this.

“Yes,” she rasped.

I reached out, placing my hand on Marisol’s. Her skin already felt different due to the lack of pumping blood. I ignored the feeling as I curled my fingers around hers and did what I’d done before. It required no real concentration or technique. Warmth poured into my hands, causing them to tingle. Moving my eyes to Mari’s face, I simply wished that she was alive.

But there was no sign of life from Marisol.

I stretched up, placing my other hand on her cheek. Live. She should live. Like Ezra, she was actually helping the people of Lasania. She was good. Live.

Something happened then as another firework exploded in the distance. With my touch.

I gasped. Or maybe it was Ezra. It could’ve been both of us at the sight of the faint whitish glow seeping out from under my skin and along the edges of my fingers.

“I don’t remember that happening with Butters,” Ezra whispered.

“It…it didn’t.” I watched with wide eyes as the silvery glow throbbed, sluicing over Marisol’s skin. The light…it was eather. The thing that had to fuel my gift. I had just never seen it coming from me before.

But still, nothing happened.

Sorrow for Ezra and Marisol started to creep into me, and the warmth dimmed in my hands, along with the faint radiance. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but—”

Marisol’s fingers twitched against mine. Then her hand jerked. Her entire arm spasmed.

“It worked,” Ezra uttered hoarsely and then said louder, “Did it work?”

My gaze shot back to Marisol’s face. I swore the warm undertones had already returned to her skin, but it was hard to tell in the lamplight. I didn’t dare speak, and in the farthest corners of my mind, I thought of the seamstress. What if she came back like that?

I probably should’ve thought of that beforehand.

Marisol’s eyelashes fluttered as her chest rose in a deep, sucking breath that ended in a hacking cough that rattled her entire body. I saw her teeth then. No fangs, thank the gods.

It’d worked.

Good gods, it’d actually worked.

Letting go of her fingers, I leaned back as I looked down at my hands. I lost my balance, falling onto my butt as Ezra clasped Marisol’s shoulder.

It’d worked.

A sudden breath of cold air touched the damp skin of my neck, causing my head to jerk up. A shiver crawled its way down my spine. I slipped my hand under my hair and clasped the back of my neck, feeling nothing but skin.

“Take a couple of deep breaths.” Ezra glanced at me, eyes shining before she shifted her focus back to Marisol. “How do you feel?”

“A little woozy. My head aches like it’s been trampled by horses.” Marisol frowned, turning toward Ezra. “But, otherwise, I feel fine. A bit confused, but did…did we retrieve the girl? Is she okay—?”

Ezra clasped Marisol’s cheeks and kissed her, silencing whatever she was about to say. And it was no friendly peck.

I guessed that cleared up any doubts about their relationship I might’ve had because it was the kind of kiss I’d read about in those books—the kind I had shared with Ash.

When they parted, there was a dazed sort of smile on Marisol’s face. “I have a…a strange feeling that I might’ve done something incredibly unwise.”

Ezra laughed hoarsely. “You? Do something unwise? Not this time.” She smoothed her thumbs over Marisol’s cheeks. “You were knocked aside. You hit your head.”

“I did?” She pressed a palm to her temple. “I don’t even remember falling.” She lowered her hand. “Sera?” A slight frown pinched her brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Ezra thought you died,” I said. “So, she brought you here so I could help bury you.”

“What?” she mumbled, looking at Ezra.

My stepsister laughed, idly rubbing Marisol’s palm between hers. “She’s being silly. I was bringing you to the family Healer when I ran into her. Right, Sera?”

“Right.” My hands were trembling, so I hid them under my legs. “But you’re okay, so I should go.”

“Okay.” Marisol smiled faintly at me. “Thank you for not burying me alive.”

I blinked as I rose to my feet. “You’re welcome.”

“You look nice, by the way,” Marisol said, looking up at me. “Beautiful, really. The surcoat. The color suits you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, having forgotten that I had changed into that earlier. Turning, I dipped out the door of the carriage as white fireworks exploded.

Ezra followed in the flashes of the light. “I’ll be right back.”

“Not planning to go anywhere.” Marisol leaned back as she looked down at herself. “Gods, I’m filthy. What did I hit my head on? A pile of mud…?”

I hopped down and walked a few feet before stopping, the hem of the surcoat swishing around my knees. A jittery sort of warm energy filled me as Ezra stepped out, closing the door behind her.

“I really didn’t think it would work,” I began.

Crossing the distance between us, Ezra went to touch me but halted. “I want to hug you, but the blood—it will ruin your surcoat.” That was a sentence I never expected to hear from Ezra. “And it really is flattering on you.” She took a deep gulp of air. “Thank you. Gods, Sera, thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to repay me—well, you could by ensuring that she never finds out the truth.” I had no idea what Marisol would think if she knew. Would she be grateful? Or would she be confused? Scared, even? Angry?

“I will make sure she never knows,” she swore, and a moment passed. “You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about what?”

“That what you just did is nothing short of a blessing.” She appeared as if she wished to shake me. “You’re a blessing, Sera. No matter what anyone says or believes, you are a blessing. You always have been. You need to know that.”

Feeling my cheeks warm, I started messing with the buttons on the lightweight coat. “My hands are special sometimes. That’s all.”

“It’s not your hands. It’s not even your gift, and that is what it is. A gift. Not a failure. You’re not a failure.”

I drew in a shuddering breath that did nothing to ease the sudden burn in the back of my throat. I kept toying with the button. What she said…

I didn’t think she could understand how much those words meant to me. And I didn’t think I could acknowledge it because doing so meant acknowledging how much all the other words hurt.

“Sera,” Ezra whispered.

I cleared my throat. “You should probably get her checked out by the Healer. Maybe not tonight,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “In case there are still some signs of how serious her injury was. But she should be looked over.”

“I’ll make sure she is.”

I nodded and then peeked up at her. “Does your father or the Queen know about her? About you two?”

Ezra coughed out a laugh. “Absolutely not. If they did, the wedding would be planned before there was even an engagement.”

My lips twitched as I unfolded my arms. “And would that be so bad? You love her.”

“And I…I think she loves me.” She dipped her chin, a half-grin forming. “But it’s still new. I mean, we’ve known each other our entire lives, but it’s not like either of us knew what we meant to each other the whole time. Or, at least, realized it. I don’t want the Crown involving themselves in it.”

“That’s understandable.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “You should get back in there.”

“I will.” She hesitated. “Why don’t you join us? While we’re getting cleaned up, I can have food sent to my chambers.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to head to bed soon.” I saw her throat work on a swallow. “You should get back in there with Marisol.”

Nodding, she started to turn but then stopped. She crossed the short distance between us and folded her arms around me.

I stiffened at first, shocked. She was touching me. She was hugging me, and I didn’t know how to respond to that for several seconds. My senses were overloaded as I lifted my arms and wrapped them around her, returning the gesture stiffly. The hug felt awkward and strange…but then it felt like something wonderful.

Ezra embraced me—squeezed me tightly—and then let go. “I love you, Sera.”

Overwhelmed, I watched her step back and smile shakily. I stood there as she turned and made her way back to the carriage. I didn’t breathe until she was inside.

I swallowed thickly, briefly closing my eyes. “I love you, too,” I whispered.

Turning slowly, I hurried across the courtyard, away from my stepsister and the carriage—away from the first time someone had hugged me. And away from the cold kiss I felt against the nape of my neck, the dread that was steadily replacing all that warmth, settling like a stone in the center of my chest and warning me that I had crossed a line.

I had done as Odetta had warned.

Played like a Primal.

Chapter 19

It had worked.

I couldn’t…I couldn’t even begin to process what I’d done. I’d brought a mortal back to life. I wasn’t sure if I’d just never believed my gift would work on a mortal or if it was because I’d never believed I would do it. And the silvery glow? That was completely new. Did it happen because I had used my gift on a mortal? I wasn’t sure. I lay in bed for hours, unable to shut down my thoughts enough to fall asleep, even though the cold press against the nape of my neck had long since faded.

No one would ever know but Ezra. Marisol would never learn the truth, and Odetta’s warning would not come to fruition.

Everything was fine.

Nothing had changed. Marisol’s soul hadn’t entered the Shadowlands yet, so it wasn’t like he—the Primal of Death—would even know. I’d only done it this once, and I would never do it again, so I needed to stop dwelling on it.

The night sky had already begun to give way to the gray of dawn by the time I finally drifted off to sleep. I tossed and turned on the narrow bed, the thin night rail itchy in the stale heat of my room, the pillow too flat and then too full. I dreamt of wolves and serpents chasing me. I dreamt of chasing a dark-haired man who wouldn’t look at me no matter how many times I called out to him. And each time I woke, I swore I heard Odetta’s voice in my ear.

I wasn’t sure what finally drew me from my fitful sleep, but when I opened my eyes, my head wasn’t even on the pillow, and the glare of the late-morning sun was bright. I blinked rapidly, surprised that I had managed to sleep this late. I hadn’t planned on that, but I was relieved that the ache in my temples had receded as I rolled onto my back.

Tavius leaned against the closed door of my bedchamber, arms crossed over his chest.

I stared at him for what felt like an eternity, not quite sure if I was really seeing him. There was no logical reason for him to be in here. None at all. I had to be having a nightmare.

“Nice of you to finally wake,” Tavius said.

I snapped out of my stupor, jackknifing upright. “What in the hell are you doing in my bedchamber?”

“Do I need a reason? I’m the Prince. I can go wherever I please,” he replied and then laughed as if he had said something funny.

I studied him as I dropped one bare foot to the stone floor. His hair was uncombed, face flushed under the shadow of his unshaven jaw. The white shirt he wore was untucked and wrinkled. So were the loose white pants. He looked as if he hadn’t yet gone to bed. My gaze returned to his face. His eyes were bright.

“Are you drunk?” I asked. “Is that how you lost your way to your rooms?”

“I know exactly where I am.” Tavius unfolded his arms and pushed away from the door. “You and I need to have a chat.”

The remnants of sleep vanished in an instant. My gaze flicked over him once more, searching for signs of a weapon. I saw none. “There is nothing that you and I need to talk about,” I said, inching my hand across the thin mattress toward the underside of my pillow where, during the last three years, I’d started keeping my dagger as I slept. “Unless you’re here to express remorse for being the cause of three young guards’ deaths.”

He frowned at me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are you really going to pretend that you had nothing to do with those guards who attacked me?” I lowered my other foot to the floor as I shifted toward the head of the bed.

“Oh, you’re talking about them.”

“Yes, the guards you hired to risk their lives for coin you do not have.”

He sneered. “You think far too highly of yourself if you believe I’d waste even one coin on anything that has to do with you.”

“If that was supposed to be an insult, you need to do better,” I snapped back, slipping my fingers under the pillow.

“It’s just the truth, little sister.”

“Do not call me sister,” I hissed. “That is an insult.”

He sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring as he jerked his head back. “You will speak to me with respect.”

I coughed out a harsh laugh. “No. I will not. What I will do, is give you a chance to leave this room with your flesh and ego intact.”

A muscle throbbed in his temple, and I braced myself for an explosion of anger. Instead, he laughed softly, and unease unfurled. “You’re so mouthy now, sister. I must admit, I preferred the meek and submissive version of you.”

“Is that so?” Under the pillow, I spread my fingers out and…and found nothing. I glanced at the pillow, my stomach dropping.

“What is it, sister?” Tavius queried, and my gaze shot to him. He reached around to his back. “Missing something?”

Disbelief thundered as he pulled the shadowstone dagger from behind him. The unease took root deep in my chest. “How did you get that?”

“You were sleeping. You didn’t even feel me slide it out from under the pillow,” he replied. “What a tacky place to keep such a weapon.” He grinned. “It would’ve been safer under the mattress.”

How…how long had he been in my bedchamber? Bile crept up my throat as I pulled my hand out from under the pillow and gripped the edge of the mattress. There was no way Tavius could’ve been quiet or stealthy enough to do that. I had been sleeping far more deeply than I realized. I forced myself to take a long, slow breath. He may have my dagger, but that was all he had. “What do you want to talk about, Tavius?” I asked, gauging the distance between us to be about six feet.

“So defiant,” he whispered, the flush of his cheeks heightening. He slammed the dagger into the wardrobe without warning, causing me to jump. The white handle reverberated from the impact. I hated that he’d caught me off guard. I really hated how that smirk deepened.

 I bet he was rather proud of what he’d done with the dagger. And I would also be willing to bet that he was too much of an arrogant fool to realize that he’d given up the only chance he had of protecting himself—as paltry an opportunity as that would’ve been. “You’re going to want to leave my bedchamber,” I warned, flattening my feet on the floor.

 “And you’re going to want to change that attitude of yours, especially after what happened.”

What happened?

“Is this because I attended the Rite?” Muscles in my legs tensed as I stood. “Am I really to be punished for such a horrid offense?”

“That was one hell of a stunt you pulled, daring to show your face. But…” He swallowed as his gaze lowered again. The night rail barely reached my knees. His perversion distracted him.

And it would cost him.

 I shot forward, not for him but for the dagger. It seemed like the smart choice if not the choice I wanted. Instinct demanded that I go at him and lay him out, but I also knew that whatever harm I inflicted upon him would be paid back tenfold. That was why I chose the dagger, thinking I could threaten him into leaving.

And that choice cost me.

Tavius moved faster than I anticipated. In a stuttered heartbeat, I realized I’d underestimated him. He crashed into me, holding my arms to my sides. “I don’t think so,” he said.

He twisted us so sharply, my legs went out from under me. He pushed hard, forcing both of us forward. I kicked out, but there was nothing but empty space. He turned again, and the sparse bedchamber whirled wildly. I caught a glimpse of the bed before he dropped me, belly-first onto the mattress.

It provided little softness. The impact knocked the air out of my lungs and sent a jolt of dull pain across my midsection. I started to flip over, but he came down on top of me, pinning my legs and torso under the weight of his body, and my arms under the pressure of us both.

I was trapped.

“You may be trained, but at the end of the day, you’re still just a weak female.” He pushed me down. “Who is finally going to fucking listen to me.”

I wastrapped.

 “Get off me!” I screamed into the mattress.

His elbow pressed into the back of my head, forcing my face into the bedding. I breathed, only to inhale the sheet covering the bed. Panic exploded like a wild beast as I struggled, gaining nothing more than an inch. I screamed into the mattress, the sound captured and muffled. My heart pounded. I couldn’t get enough air. Not even when I managed to turn my head to the side enough that I was no longer inhaling the sheet. I still couldn’t get air into my lungs.

“You will start respecting me now. Want to know why?” His foul breath, full of stale ale and liquor, blasted my cheek. “Ask me, sister. Ask me why.”

“Why?” I spat, gasping as his elbow pressed into the space below my neck, sending a blast of pain down my spine. Fury roared through me, crashing into the building panic. I couldn’t get enough air in, and the weight of him, the feel of him was unbearable. I screamed again, and he shoved his forearm into the back of my head, pressing my face back into the mattress. My heart clawed at my chest. Dear gods, I was going to kill him. I was going to dig out his eyes with my bare fingers and then slice off his hands, his—

He put his mouth to my ear. “Because I am now King.”

My heart thudded with disbelief.

“Yeah,” he breathed, grabbing a fistful of hair. He lifted my head, and I dragged in mouthfuls of air. “You heard me right. I am King.”

“How? Your father—”

“He died in the middle of the night. In his sleep.” He yanked my head back. Fiery pain erupted over my scalp, and pressure pushed down on my spine as he held my head and neck at an unnatural angle. “The Healers say it was an ailment of the heart.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. None of it made sense. But if he spoke the truth…? How was Ezra? How was my mother?

“So, I’ve ascended the throne, even with all my drinking and chasing skirts. What do you think about that?”

What did I think about that? “Fate must have a sense of humor,” I forced out.

“Stupid cunt.” Spittle hit the side of my cheek as he continued to pull. Good gods, he was going to snap my neck. “I don’t think you understand what this means for you. My father let you do whatever you wanted, even though you failed us. Let you speak to people however you wanted. Speak to me like you do. Not anymore.”

“Is your ego that fragile?” I spat.

Tavius shoved my face back into the mattress. Whatever relief came from the pressure being gone from my neck and spine was replaced by smothering panic. My struggles renewed as I managed to get a thin breath of air. “But things are going to change. You won’t have protection any longer. Nor do you have the aid of your knight.”

I stopped moving. I stopped fighting as his words sank in through the panic.

His fingers tightened around my hair. “Sir Holland has been reassigned as of this morning. He was on the ship that left for the Vodina Isles. He will personally oversee a treaty of peace between our kingdom and theirs.”

My throat seized. Sir…Sir Holland had been sent to Vodina? After what had been done to their Lords—after what I’d done? That was a death sentence. That is if Tavius spoke the truth. I couldn’t imagine that Sir Holland would’ve left without finding me. He would’ve made time. Unless he hadn’t been given a chance. A heavy knot settled in my chest. “Is he alive?” I rasped out.

“As of now, he should be,” Tavius answered, and I wasn’t sure if I could believe him. But could I allow myself to doubt his truth? “But you? I think you’re going to wish you were on your way to Vodina with him.”

The back of my eyes burned as I desperately tried to rein in my emotions. King Ernald was dead. I’d never been all that close to the man, but I’d known him for my entire life. And Ezra? My mother? Sir Holland? What about the people of Lasania? This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not like my father,” he said. “Nor am I like your mother. I don’t, for one second, believe that the Primal will come for you. He saw what a worthless thing you are. He rejected you. You won’t save the kingdom.”

His words cut into my skin. “And you will?”

“Yes.”

I almost laughed. “How?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” he promised. “But first, there’s something you need to understand. I can do whatever I want to you right now. There isn’t one damn soul who would step in and stop me or, let’s be honest, care enough to do so.” He tilted my head to the side again. “Not so mouthy now, are you?” Tavius laughed. “Yeah, it’s time to rethink that attitude of yours.”

“Why? Why do you hate me?” I asked, even as I told myself I didn’t care. “You were like this from day one.”

“Why?” Tavius laughed. “Are you that obtuse?”

I was surprised he knew what the word meant. “I guess so.”

“You were the Maiden, fated to belong to the Primal of Death,” he said. “You failed at that, but that doesn’t change who you really are, Princess Seraphena, the last of the Mierel bloodline.”

My heart stuttered as understanding seeped into me, along with a hefty dose of disbelief. “You…you’re worried I will try to stake a claim to the throne.”

“You could,” he whispered. “Many wouldn’t believe you. I doubt you’d have the support of even your own mother. But enough people would be willing to believe you—believe anyone who claimed to be a Mierel.”

All these years, I’d assumed that Tavius had little to no desire to take the Crown. Never once had I even considered that my right to the throne drove his hateful behavior. I’d been wrong—so wrong.

“I have a question, sister? What do you want me to do right now?”

Die.

Die a long, slow, and painful death.

“You want me to get off you?” he taunted. “Then say it.”

I said nothing.

He dug his fingers into my hair and jerked my head so sharply, pain shot down my spine. “Say it with respect, Sera.”

Every part of my being rebelled, but I forced my jaws open. I forced the words to the tip of my tongue. “Get off me, Tavius.”

“No. That’s not it. You know it.”

I hated him. Gods, I hated him. “Please.”

He tsked under his breath, clearly enjoying this. “It’s, ‘Will you please get off me, King Tavius?’”

Opening my eyes, I focused on the rays of light streaming in through the small window. “You are not my King, nor will you ever be.”

Tavius stilled above me and then released his grip, suddenly rolling off me. I quickly shifted to my back, breathing heavily.

Tavius smiled as he backed away. “Gods, I hoped you’d answer that way. Do you know what you just did?”

I glared at him, my jaw aching.

“You made a treasonous statement.” That fevered glow returning to his eyes, Tavius gripped the handle of my dagger, tearing it free. A chunk of wood flew into the air. He slipped the dagger into his belt and barked out one word. “Guards.”

I shot to my feet as the door swung open, and two Royal Guards stalked in. But it wasn’t them that sent a cold bolt of dread down my spine. It was the one who remained in the hallway. It was Pike—the Royal Guard who’d stood outside my…my stepfather’s office the day I’d found the Coupers. It was what was in his hands.

A bow.

Aimed straight at my chest.

Everything in me slowed as I stared at the sharp edge of the arrow, held steady in Pike’s hands.

“Fight them, and I think you know exactly what will happen,” Tavius said.

I couldn’t look away from the sharp point.

I was fast, but not faster than an arrow. The eager look on Pike’s face told me that he really hoped that I fought. The smile on Tavius’s face said the same.

And it was in that moment that I realized that whatever Tavius planned, now or later, there was a good chance he didn’t expect me to survive. And there was also a high probability that he wanted me to beg, cry, or plead.

I wouldn’t give them that. I wouldn’t fight them. They would not get any of that from me. My back straightened as I inhaled slowly and deeply. I would not give them anything.

Things had slowed inside me but felt as if they’d sped up outside of me. The two guards gripped my arms with gloved hands, walking me from the chamber. Tavius spoke to the Royal Guard who waited at the end of the hall, speaking too quietly for me to hear. The guard turned, quickly jogging off ahead of us as I was forced down to the main floor and led through the hall the servants used.

The faces of those we passed were a blur. I didn’t know if they looked our way, how much they saw, or what they thought as the guards walked me into the Great Hall, passing between columns adorned in gold scrollwork as we entered the grandest chamber in Wayfair. Banners taller than many of the homes within Carsodonia hung from the dome-shaped glass ceiling to the floors, the golden Royal Crest glittering in the light from the numerous gas lamps and candle sconces. A secondary wall of pillars circled the main floor, creating a somewhat private alcove. They too were adorned with golden designs, and that scrollwork continued across the marble and limestone floor, down the wide steps of the alcove, and then forward like veins of gold, stretching all the way to the raised dais where the King’s and Queen’s diamond and citrine-jeweled thrones sat.

They were empty now, but one was draped in white fabric. Black petals had been strewn about the cloth, a ceremonial act representing the King’s passing.

The massive circular chamber was still in a state of disarray from the prior night’s celebrations. Servants came to a complete standstill as we entered—dozens of them.

“Everyone out,” Tavius barked. “Now.”